Loyalty on the Razor's Edge
by Denouement Intrusion
Summary: An undercover operation gone sour and failing health seriously test Tony's loyalties. Will strained loyalties fatally damage relationships among the team members? Can Tony and Gibbs survive when their lives depend on each other's loyalty?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I began this story months ago after re-watching "Bury Your Dead". The ending was so open ended and there was no follow up in the next few episodes so this idea came to me. For those of you who HATE Jeanne please read through to the end .The story is written in my head, and was completely plotted out before any information about this week's episode"Internal Affairs" came out. So, not knowing what TPTB have in mind to wrap up The Frog/Jeanne story arc this is what I came up with. My big problem is typing the stuff in. Hopefully updates will be reasonably frequent. I hope you like it. Please R&R. This is my first Fan fic.

Category: Drama/Tragedy/Angst/Friendship

Spoilers:"SWAK", "Bury Your Dead", "Requiem", possible for any show through current episodes

Ships: Tony/Jeanne, possible small amounts of TIVA and McAbby, hints of Tony/Paula, Jethro/Tony father/son NOT SLASH team friendship

Warnings:Rated T for mature content, swearing, scenes of explicit violence/torture continuing character death NOT for kids

Disclaimer:I do not own these characters I'm just playing in their yard...

Loyalty on the Razor's Edge

Special agent Anthony DiNozzo took a deep swallow of his hot tea and had to repress a sigh of satisfaction. Gibbs could keep his coffee – when his throat was raw and his chest this tight and sore nothing seemed to ease him like this strong, hot tea. Yorkshire Red, steeped until it was nearly opaque and could stand up to heavy cream. It was a blend Ducky had introduced him to over two years ago, when the coughing after his close encounter with plague had left him, it seemed, with a perpetually sore throat.

The bullpen was almost unnaturally quiet. They had had a string of boringly routine cases for the last several weeks. Ziva was openly complaining that the criminals were not being "challenging" enough. Even McGee had voiced a soft complaint about the dull cases.

Tony thought he knew what was going on, and it worried him. They were coddling the team – coddling him. His brief encounter with a freezing cold river, now more than six weeks ago, had left him nominated for a citation for bravery and coughing up tainted river water. Seventy two hours later he had been in the Bethesda ICU, inches away from buying a ventilator and a two week stay.

He had managed, much to his own surprise, as well as Dr. Pitt's, to avoid the vent and fight off the infection, but he had missed five days of work. He had come back earlier than both Dr. Pitt and Ducky had wanted him to largely because he knew that human resources was still watching his fitness for field duty like a hawk, because of his many job related injuries and illnesses.

Though he was improving, he could not seem to shake the cough which usually made its appearance shortly after lunch and slowly but steadily worsened as each afternoon wore on. So now the two or three o'clock cup of tea had become a routine. He clutched the steaming mug and found himself grateful that the rich brew could tolerate milk or cream. It made it look like coffee and that seemed to be diverting Gibbs' attention from its real purpose, which was to soothe his chest and quiet the cough.

No amount of tea, coffee or any other beverage safe for work could ease the anxiety that had twisted his gut into a knot six inches below the tight pain in his chest, though. NCIS Director Jenny Shepard was, quietly but clearly, handing off cases needing more fieldwork or extra hours to other teams and giving her premier team routine, easy stuff. The fact that over the last four weeks Gibbs had not voiced even one complaint where Tony could hear him only served to increase his gnawing concern. It had become clear to Tony that his bosses thought he could not physically handle the more demanding cases right now.

He knew this could not continue. It bothered him more than he could even admit to himself that it had actually taken him several weeks to notice what was going on. It had now been nearly two weeks since he had realized what they were doing and he had seen no sign that they were moving to restore the team's caseload to its usual frenetic pace.

He would have to step up and challenge them on it.

He was not looking forward to it. He had lost nearly fifteen pounds in the two weeks after his unexpected swim, most of it muscle mass, and he had yet to regain it. His sleep had improved over the last couple of weeks and with it his stamina, but he knew it would be a few more weeks yet before his general physical condition was back to where it had been before.

None of that mattered though. It was Thursday afternoon, and he had been closely watching the case assignments since Monday. He had no doubt left; they were waiting for him to make the call. The longer he delayed the more they would come to believe he was _not _fit for field duty. And though he would have allowed himself to be drawn and quartered before admitting it, he was acutely aware that coddling the team for his sake was grossly unfair to Ziva and McGee. The Probie, in particular, had grown into a fine field agent. If he was starting to complain, it had gone on way too long.

Tony took another long draft of the tea. He was considering a quick visit to Abby or Ducky. He wanted to know if either of his team mates had spoken to them about the situation. He had no doubt that Ziva, at least, was fully aware of what was going on. If one or both of them had had their patience stretched to the point of speaking out about it, then he would have to rethink his position.

He might have to resign.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips. A sense of deep despair washed through him. He knew if he was consciously even considering resigning, then he should probably go ahead and do it.

Still holding the mug of tea he swung his chair around and let his gaze wander over Gibbs, who was reviewing the week's reports at his desk, then on over to Ziva and McGee. He thought back to the period surrounding Kate's death. Even before she'd been killed, he had felt the itch, the urge to move on. The knowledge that he was starting to care a bit too much for these people. Then he'd gotten the plague. Katie had stayed with him in isolation and Gibbs – Gibbs had strode into isolation, lightly headslapped him, and told him flatly that he would live. So he did.

Then Kate had been killed a week after he came back to work. He couldn't leave just then. Even though two years, or a little more, had always signaled the break point and it was a year past that. For Abby's sake as well as McGee's he had taken it upon himself to divert Gibbs' obsessive fury, and to bait and goad Gibbs back into a more normal mood. And somehow, he wasn't really sure how, moving on, like he always did, just hadn't happened. His job at NCIS had become his life. And he knew now, realized he had known for a long time, that if he could no longer function reliably in the field, he could never bear watching others take over his duties while he rode a desk. He had no idea, had never even considered, what he might do if he left the NCIS. God, how had he become so comfortably entrenched here?

His sense of helpless despair deepened.

He watched his teammates work on their reports for a few moments, then swung back to his own keyboard and hit enter, sending his terse report of the interrogation of a couple of suspects in their minor drug case to the printer. He stared at the computer screen without really seeing it and drained the last of his tea in a few quick gulps. The air conditioning kicked on and he shivered, suddenly chilled Standing slowly, he stretched carefully, loosening stiff muscles. To his dismay, even the light stretch brought on a rattling cough that he quickly covered with his hand.

Not wanting to attract Gibbs' attention by just standing there coughing, he moved quickly out of his cubicle and over to the printer stand by the bank of windows. Picking up his brief report, he gazed out of the windows at the lawn and plaza areas around the public entrance to the NCIS building. For some reason, the sight twisted his heart with pain. Agents of all ages were coming and going, along with various support personnel and members of the public. He recognized several of the agents. They were all moving comfortably, briskly. In that moment it seemed to him that none of them really understood how quickly it could all be taken from them. Paula Cassidy's and Chris Pacci's faces seemed to float in the window like ghosts in front of him.

After another moment, he shook himself slightly, grimacing. He was not a man given to self pity, normally, and he was finding his current depressed mood difficult to cope with. But he knew he could not let pride or self pity , or even despair, get in the way of the decisions he was facing.

The loose, moist sounding cough had caught Gibbs' attention immediately. It had become too disturbingly familiar. He had glimpsed Tony out of the corner of his eye, covering what looked to be a bone-jarring cough under the guise of stretching. It had become something of a habit, that pseudo-stretch, sort of like the tea that Gibbs knew Tony believed Gibbs thought was coffee.

Gibbs abandoned any pretense and simply watched as Tony moved to the printer and picked up his report. Something in the view seemed to catch his attention and Tony just stood there for long few moments, papers held loosely in his hand. Gibbs surveyed his stance, the set, or really the slump, of his shoulders, noting that today he was again wearing one of his expensive designer suits like some sort of tactical armor. It was his posture, more than anything else, that was making alarm bells ring wildly in Gibbs' head. He'd seen it before.

In the trying weeks after he had survived his bout of pneumonic plague, Tony had stayed for a while at Gibbs' house. After several weeks of the incessant coughing Gibbs had accompanied Tony to a follow up visit with Dr. Pitt. The results had not been what Tony was hoping for. The doctor had not authorised his return to work and Tony had expressed openly to his mentor his deep fear that he would never really be fit for field duty again. That defeated -looking slump of his shoulders had been visible during that time. He'd seen it again after Kate Todd's funeral.

Inwardly Gibbs sighed and cursed Jenny Shepard. He had warned her that cutting his team's caseload was not a good idea. That DiNozzo would figure it out eventually and that it would gut his senior field agent's confidence. He could only hope that Tony would realize that this was not in accord with Gibbs' wishes. That it was the Director who decided which team would handle which case.

After a few moments had passed, Tony moved to the edge of Gibbs' space and dropped his report into the "In " tray.

"Really busy week, huh Boss." he said softly. Gibbs looked up at him and said "Happens that way sometimes, DiNozzo."

Tony leaned on the edge of Gibbs' desk and said, with only the merest trace of his usual levity "You know Boss, I think the troops are getting restless. Ziva hasn't had a chance to slap someone down hard in nearly three weeks." Gibbs tilted his head and raised his eyebrows but did not respond otherwise. Ziva, hearing her name looked over at the two of them. Tony gave her a grin and wiggled his eyebrows at her as he said "Three weeks Boss, you've been married. Think about it."Gibbs thought to himself "He's trying too hard." The obvious attempt to goad Ziva was lacking Tony's usual cheeekiness and was clearly halfhearted.

Ziva, for her part merely pursed her lips and said almost primly"Whatever you may think Tony I do not let personal issues affect my treatment of suspects."

"No?" Tony shot back "A certain security guard who called you a dirt bag comes to mind"

"How did you know I..."Ziva began then stopped abruptly. The grin Tony shot at her looked a lot more genuine to Gibbs.

"Boss, I'm going to go cruise by Abby for a minute, okay?" said Tony

"Was that visit Abby or cruise her, Dinozzo?" Gibbs said by way of reply."Ah, visit Boss," Tony replied quickly. "I"ll ride down with you," said Gibbs, sensing that the request was as much of an invitation as he was likely to get.

Ziva and McGee exchanged glances. They watched as the two men boarded the elevator. Ziva rose and went over to McGee's desk. "I told you something was going on," she said. McGee nodded then said "Do you think they are discussing why we've been getting all the scut work cases?" Ziva nodded slowly and said "I saw Tony slip something into his pocket before he went to the elevator."

"What was it?" asked McGee

"I"m not sure," said Ziva, staring at the elevator doors.

The elevator had barely started descending when Tony reached over and pushed the emergency stop switch. Gibbs surveyed his senior field agent and was distressed by what he saw. He had seen Tony in all kinds of moods and he thought to himself that the younger man had not looked this emotionally beat up since that dreadful day when his car had exploded and his life had been ripped apart. He felt his anger at Jenny Shepard rising again. She had had no business involving Tony in a peacock dance; it was a type of operation his agent had no training in handling the potential repercussions of. Tony had been trained as a cop, not an intelligence operative.

"You know Abs doesn't have anything cooking for us right now Boss," said Tony.

"I'm aware of that."Gibbs replied trying to keep his voice neutral. "So why are you headed there?"

"I thought I owed it to her to tell her in person,"Tony said softly.

Gibbs thought he knew what was coming but he was determined to make Tony say it if he meant it. "Tell her what , DiNozzo?"

In response, Tony grabbed Gibbs' wrist and slapped something into his palm. Gibbs looked down and felt his chest tighten as he found himself holding Tony's badge.

"If you wanted it, Boss, all you had to do was ask," Tony said.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **To all of you who reviewed and alerted this story I apologise for the long delay in updating. I have been hospitalised and very sick. It thrilled me to see how many people liked and reviewed my work. I have also been struggling a bit with this chapter. It includes some elements that I originally intended for another story, and I debated a long time over whether or not to include them here. I rewrote this several times and still am not completely satisfied but you have waited long enough I think. I hope the length of the chapter makes up for the wait. ;) The last few episodes of season 5 make this story now quite AU but I hope you will enjoy it. I will try to update more frequently – several later chapters are already written. I deeply appreciate all the reviews; if I did not respond to your review I apologise. I tried to make sure I did but I lost track of where I was at one point. Also, for anyone not familiar with the abbreviation, HR stands for Human Resources (Personnel).

Warnings: Rated T for mature themes and graphic violence later on. Swearing may abound. "F" word in there several times.

Spoilers:Possible through current episodes.

Disclaimer:Still not mine (sob).

Loyalty on the Razor's Edge

Chapter 2

Gibbs stared at the badge in his hand for a few moments, then looked up directly into Tony's eyes. He was stunned by the tone of resignation and despair he had heard in Tony's voice. That pain and despair was reflected in those expressive eyes, along with something else. What was it? To Gibbs, it seemed those eyes were saying "Help me. I don't know how to help myself". He recognized the expression from somewhere but could not place where. A shiver ran down his back. He thought it might be important to place where he'd seen that look, but put it aside for the moment.

Looking back down at the badge in his hand he said quietly "I don't want this." Then he reached out and slipped the badge into the breast pocket of Tony's jacket.

"She the one who wanted it?" Tony jerked his chin towards the ceiling, in the general area of the Director's office.

Gibbs sighed inwardly. Tony wasn't going to let this go. "As far as I know she doesn't want it either. You're the one who wanted that badge, DiNozzo. You worked hard to earn it. You keep it."

Tony sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Come on Boss, I'm not blind or stupid. She's been giving us shit work for weeks and you haven't said one word about it. You don't waste your premier Major Case team on minor personal possession drug cases if you think everything is okay. And I can't see you putting up with it. You guys think I'm unfit for field duty don't you?"

Gibbs felt frustration wash over him. "This conversation is gonna take too long to tie up the elevator," he said, flipping the switch back to ON. "We'll finish up in Abby's lab." Tony did not respond, but Gibbs could see that he was trembling slightly and there was a bitter, almost surly look on his face.

In the bullpen, Ziva snapped suddenly "The elevator is moving McGee; they'll be there in seconds. Let her know then get off the phone!" McGee, who was on the phone with Abby said a rushed "Yeah Abs a few seconds, let us know if you can," then hung up.

Three floors down the elevator dinged open and Gibbs strode out followed by a sullen and strained looking DiNozzo. As he entered the lab Tony found himself suddenly assaulted by a double armful of squealing goth. "Abs," he gasped, "gotta breathe..." Abby released him but was still dancing around him excitedly. "What was that about?" asked Tony, rubbing his ribs gingerly.

"You, oh senior field agent extraordinaire, are a genius," Abby burbled happily. "And you were absolutely right!"

"ABBY!" Gibbs said sharply "Is there a point here?"

"Are we grumpy today or what?" Abby was not going to let her high spirits be dampened. "Tony here just solved the Dickerson case!"

"WHAT?!"barked Gibbs in shock as Tony gasped "I was right?"

"Yes you were," Abby said as she turned to Gibbs. "Tony noticed that that pattern that was found on the girl's neck matched the weave of the scarf we had in evidence. Then he found some impressions on one end of the scarf that turned out to be tooth impressions. I was able to lift biological material from the end of the scarf and matched it to the original suspect Grady."

"He used his teeth to hold one end of the scarf while he strangled the little girl, Boss," Tony interposed quickly.

"When did you start working this case?" Gibbs asked. The Dickerson case was an infamous cold case at NCIS – a nine year old girl assaulted and strangled in her own bed – they had had some evidence but not enough to go to trial.

"Boss, Tony found something else, a small hair fragment in the knot in the scarf. I matched that to the victim putting her in physical proximity to the suspect. The previous forensic tech should have found it when he processed the scarf. Eagle eyes there spotted it when he was reviewing the physical evidence. It means we can finally take the guy to trial." Gibbs looked over at Tony who was staring at the window through which Ari had once shot at he and Abby.

"You gonna answer my question?" he asked, more sharply than he intended. "When did you start working this case?"

"When I got bored out of my mind doing scut work." Tony shot back, not bothering to turn to look at Gibbs. Gibbs did not miss Abby's shocked, reproachful look, he just wasn't sure who it was directed at. "Abs, give us a few will you," he said.

Abby nodded vigorously and gave Tony another quick, fierce hug, stage whispering at the same time, "If he won't say it I will; that was top notch work." "Thanks, Abs," Tony said giving her a kiss on the cheek. Gibbs heard the flash of pride and satisfaction in his voice and saw the almost wistful look that passed over Tony's face. He also caught the glare that Abby shot _him_ and the brief jerk of her head in Tony's direction as she signed _What did you do to him? He's almost in tears! He did good and you sound pissed off..._she broke off as Gibbs signed back in rapid small gestures_ He just tried to resign I'm trying to find out what's going on! _He stopped as Tony spotted him and said wearily "Come on Boss; if you want a private conversation just say the word and I'll go." Gibbs was shocked at Tony's complete readiness to be dismissed, as if what had just passed between them was not important enough to take up Gibbs' time. Abby hugged him again quickly then skipped on out the door at Gibbs' urgently signed _I need a private talk with him!_

"You're not going anywhere DiNozzo," said Gibbs. "I don't want your damn badge and I won't let HR take you from me. If this holds up it just proves that you are too damn valuable to NCIS to let you get away from us. So when exactly did you start working this case?"

"A little over two weeks ago, Boss," Tony replied and made no attempt to elaborate, despite the pointed stare Gibbs was giving him. He leaned against one of the lab tables, his arms folded and his eyes focused on some point several miles beyond Gibbs' left shoulder. His face had a closed, guarded look and the eyes showed nothing but desolation.

"Mind telling me why?" Gibbs was finally forced to ask.

"Because the cases we were catching were boring even the MCGeek" said Tony. "I hadn't figured out what you and the director were doing yet and I figured as long as it was this slow... well, you know I come back most nights and work a few hours, I thought I'd put that time to good use. I tried resting up at home but the coughing was keeping me up nights. I asked around among agents who had been here longer than me what cold cases still stuck with them. The Dickerson case was one case everyone mentioned. When I read the case file I knew I could break the case."

"How did you know?" Gibbs asked, curious. Tony considered for a moment then said, "I really couldn't tell you. I just knew that I needed to review the physical evidence and that the answer was there. I could just feel it. I think what caught my attention was that the scarf was collected late and Ducky never actually saw it. And to be honest Boss, anyone who paid close attention to the physical evidence should have been able to break this case; it was all there." Gibbs thought this was unlikely; the case had been open for nearly seven years. He was impressed.

Gibbs smiled and said "Abby was right. That was top notch work." He watched as Tony's posture relaxed fractionally.

He was normally extremely sparing with his praise but he had seen that Tony needed something more than his usual gruff nod. Somewhat unwillingly, he then said gently, "Now, about your fitness for field duty..." and saw Tony go rigid, saw the pleased satisfaction drain from his face. "Tony, I did _not _ask the Director to place you or the team on what amounts to light duty. In fact I told her this was a bad idea."

"So you guys DO think I'm unfit," said Tony. Anger and despair were evident in his voice and on his face. "I mean, Boss, I can't imagine any other reason you and she would stand the team down to this extent."

"Didn't I just say I didn't?" asked an exasperated Gibbs. "Do you really think I would endanger McGee and Ziva's lives, not to mention my own, NOT to mention YOURS, by letting you stay on active duty if I thought you were unfit? Don't you think I'd nail your ass to one of Ducky's tables till HE cleared you, if I had any questions about your fitness? Don't you think I trust you to tell me if you're not fit for duty?"

This last question was pushing it more than a little and both men knew it. Tony had a long history of not being forthcoming about his health and trying to push himself far beyond his physical limits. The irony was that Gibbs _did_ trust Tony to make that call. He knew that Tony would not hesitate to risk his own life, but he trusted his senior field agent would never endanger other people's lives by remaining on duty if he was physically unable to back them. That, he thought, was not in Tony's nature. Gibbs believed absolutely that the agent he knew would never needlessly risk other people's lives, especially people he cared for, and Gibbs knew he cared deeply for every member of his team.

"How would I know what you think, or what you'd do, or whether or not you trust me?It's not like you've had a lot to say to me over the last nine months" said Tony flatly, without attempting to disguise the bitterness in his voice. His gaze had returned from whatever arctic wilderness it had been focused on, and had Gibbs not already been expecting it, he would have been taken aback by the blazing anger that was suddenly, pointedly directed on him.

Gibbs tried to tamp down his own sudden surge of anger at the implied rebuke. It wasn't like DiNozzo was wrong, after all; he had been more than usually taciturn after returning from Mexico, because his memory had not fully returned. It bothered him still that some of those lost memories concerned DiNozzo. But he had not failed to notice that DiNozzo had been unflagging in his vigil to protect Gibbs from any consequences of the mistakes that he still occasionally made due to his faulty memory.

DiNozzo had monitored Gibbs' paperwork, and Gibbs knew for a fact that his Senior Field Agent had caught, and quietly fixed, several major mistakes. DiNozzo had responded without bothering to correct Gibbs whenever he called him "Stan", and quietly redirected him by addressing Ziva by name on the occasions when he'd slipped and called her "Kate". Mercifully, these lapses had pretty much stopped after the first two months after he got back. DiNozzo had, quietly but firmly, pushed, corrected, redirected, and challenged Gibbs in those first few months until, apparently, he was satisfied that Gibbs' memory was as functional as it was ever going to be, and was still, he knew, watching his six on that issue. He was well aware that it was far more than any supervisor had a right to expect from a subordinate, and that it was a measure of just how much Tony thought of him.

He was also well aware that being addressed by his predecessor's name had to have been excruciating for Tony, whom he knew virtually lived for the brief expressions of approval or acknowledgment that were pretty much all Gibbs ever gave. He had known, for a long time, that they needed to talk about these things but he really didn't want to take this particular conversation there.

"Well," he said slowly "I'm not the only one who has kept things a little close to the vest recently." Tony flushed at this and Gibbs continued, still framing his thoughts even as he spoke, "To the extent that that has contributed to any, ah...uncertainty between us, I apologize. I know that you had my back, in a major way, after I came back from Mexico. I would never have asked that of you, and I should have thanked you. Tony, I argued with Jen over standing the team down from major case work. I told her it was insulting and that we should just talk to you and your doctor. She said she wanted to handle it this way because she didn't want anything on the record about her... her concerns. I told her there was no way you'd risk other people by staying on duty if you were unfit, but she just," he paused for a moment, struggling for words. "She insisted on handling it her own way. I let it go because I didn't want H.R. to get in the middle of it. You're too great an asset to me for me to risk losing you to some petty bureaucratic garbage."

Gibbs stared at his Senior Field Agent, looking for signs that the younger man was getting his message, namely that he trusted his senior agent's judgment and respected his skills, enough to be willing to fight to keep him. But the misery on Tony's face was unchanged and his posture still looked like that of a kicked dog. He looked like he was a million miles away in his head and Gibbs wasn't even sure that Tony was actually listening to him. "Penny for your thoughts," Gibbs finally said, trying to keep his voice as neutral and as gentle as possible.

Tony's eyes flicked to Gibbs' face for a fraction of a second then away again. His jaw tightened for a second, and Gibbs, watching him closely, thought he was struggling with what looked like intense anger. "I'm wondering if everyone thinks I'm solid and trusts me so damn much then why is it I've been backed to the wall on this issue," Tony said flatly. "And for god's sake why the hell take it out on the team?"

Gibbs thought to himself _that's not what you were thinking_ but aloud he said "I thought I just explained that to you, DiNozzo." An expression flickered across Tony's face briefly, one that Gibbs instantly recognized. _He doesn't believe me, doesn't believe some part of what I just said._ "And did it ever cross your mind that maybe the Director thought it might do some of the other teams some good to have experience with the tougher, higher profile cases?"Gibbs asked working hard to keep his irritation from showing. Tony's face once again had that closed, guarded look that told Gibbs he was working to conceal some inner turmoil he very much did not want Gibbs to see. His gaze had returned to contemplating some distant emptiness.

"No." said Tony easily enough. His gaze was still on the window that looked out to Anacostia Park, and he continued almost absently, "Cassie has had plenty of experience from when she was Senior Field Agent for Chris, and that Brandeis guy was someone else's Senior Agent out in San Diego for like, six or seven years, before he was brought here under Paula to help to rebuild third team." He trailed off as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the face Gibbs made at the mention of Mike Brandeis. "What?" he asked. "You really don't like Brandeis do you?"

"No I don't," said Gibbs. "I booted him from my team a few years ago, just before I brought you in from Baltimore. You didn't hear this from me but I just never trusted the guy. Stan didn't like him either. He set my teeth on edge. I never felt like he had my back. I told Morrow that I didn't feel like I could trust the guy with my life. If his team is ever backing us for some reason, you watch yourself. I've heard stuff that makes me think he can be careless and a bit of a bully, and he sure struck me that way when he was with me. I told Jen before I left to let you have that lead slot that went to Paula, but Jen was getting pressure from SecNav and Paula was higher on the promotions list. And as Jen rightly pointed out at the time you had your own team to run." Gibbs paused for a moment. He had never said it and now might be a good time. "From what she told me and what I saw, you did a damn fine job of it too."

Tony's head came up sharply and a slow soft smile lit his features. The tenseness faded from his posture as the hazel eyes focused on the present, on Gibbs, holding a happiness he could not remember the last time he had seen. The transformation as the look of misery left Tony's face was startling, and Gibbs realized, somewhat belatedly, that signs of that misery had been present in his face and eyes for a long time, several months at least. Gibbs thought to himself that Tony hadn't looked this happy since_ ... Since the La Grenouille case went to hell _he thought. Four and a half months, at least. God, how had he been so blind? He smiled himself to see the transformation of Tony's features.

"Took you long enough." Tony said very quietly. Gibbs winced, feeling acutely responsible for the oblique pain in Tony's voice. _Why_, he though to himself, _do I have so much trouble saying things that really need to be said_?

"Didn't think the obvious needed saying; always been a fault of mine. I'm sorry." Gibbs said sincerely. Tony quirked an eyebrow at him curiously "Sorry boss?" he asked. "Sorry and an apology. How did I rate both in the same day?" Gibbs heard no bitterness in that question, just genuine curiosity.

"Not a weakness between friends, Tony." Tony nodded thoughtfully. The apology, as well as the praise, was unexpected and somewhat surprising. He had long since given up expecting Gibbs to acknowledge how hard he had worked to keep the team together and running well while Gibbs had been away in Mexico getting his head on straight. He had _never_ expected Gibbs to notice how hard he had worked to ameliorate the effects of Gibbs' faulty memory after he'd returned. The acknowledgment salved some part of his soul he had not realized was hurting so badly. It was enough, he decided. This conversation had the potential to go places he was fairly sure neither of them wanted it to go. He decided to make an escape while the getting was good.

"Well," said Tony, straightening up, "I guess I need to go talk with the Director." "Why?" asked Gibbs. "So she'll stop handing us cases that bore even a probie." Tony said, grinning hesitantly.

It seemed to Tony that Gibbs might actually be willing to leave things as they were for the moment. He was almost ridiculously relieved. He felt like he had dodged a minefield. Maybe he would have time to pull himself together and get past this strange, depressed mood after all. He rubbed the back of his head where it met his neck trying to ease his headache, wincing as his fingers encountered the bruise. The petty officer and his seaman friend had resisted being brought in for investigation, and as usual Tony had come off the worse for it. His head had slammed into the stair tread so hard it had cracked the edge of it. Now, two days later, his head still ached dully. The persistent cough hadn't helped the headache, and he thought that perhaps the physical misery was the main cause of this moodiness.

The AC kicked on in the lab and he shivered at the sudden cool draft. Within seconds he was nearly doubled over by a sudden onslaught of harsh, wracking coughs. Gibbs grimaced at the sound; these coughs seemed dryer, less productive than the one he had heard upstairs. As the coughing continued, he moved to Tony's side and began rubbing his back in slow, gentle circles, much as he had when Tony was recovering from the pneumonic plague. "You start barking like this in front of Jen, DiNozzo, it's not exactly gonna convince her that she should restore our caseload," said Gibbs dryly.

"Man, I really hate this," Tony choked out between coughs. He rested his hands on his thighs for a moment as the coughing died away. A few careful deep breaths seemed to settle him and he straightened slowly. "I promise you, Boss, I have been officially cleared for full field duties." he said.

"Yeah, well she's gonna want to know that you've seen Dr. Pitt," Gibbs said with a chuckle. "I've seen him, Boss," said Tony,his eyes narrowing slightly. "You remember, I told you I was going. Friday. "

"Well, yeah, DiNozzo, I remember," Gibbs said still smiling easily, "But these days when you say you're going to the doctor there's no telling where you'll fetch up." The blood drained abruptly from Tony's face and for a fraction of a second Gibbs thought his Senior Agent was about to faint as Tony swayed a little on his feet before taking a backwards step.

"I knew it," Tony whispered vehemently. "I told her you'd never forgive me or trust me again, and I was right, wasn't I, Boss?" He was white to his lips and beginning to shake hard. Gibbs mentally kicked himself as he realized what was going through Tony's mind. "Tony, I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he said. Tony was looking at the floor and would not look up or meet his gaze. Looking past Tony, Gibbs could see that Ducky had suddenly appeared outside the glass doors of the lab. But Ducky had evidently seen something of the exchange between the two men and was holding up his hands and backing towards the stairwell. Ducky caught Gibbs' gaze and waved his hands in a gesture of negation and then pointed up, clearly indicating to Gibbs that he would be in the bullpen. Gibbs nodded curtly then took a step forward and reached out, intending to lay his hand on Tony's shoulder in a conciliatory gesture.

Tony shuddered and flinched violently away from Gibbs. He was close to hyperventilating and Gibbs saw his jaw tense as he struggled to get his breathing under control and repress tears that were suddenly sparkling in his eyes. He backed several more steps away from Gibbs and scrubbed at his face with his hands, wiping away the tears before looking up at Gibbs.

Tony stared at Gibbs for several seconds, seeing confusion and genuine regret in his mentor's face. Suddenly his fragile calm broke completely and a wave of memories so bitter that they totally unnerved him swept over him. He folded his arms over his midsection and bent forward slightly, gasping with an almost physical pain.

"God what I lost for that damn case," he whispered, mostly to himself, not caring that Gibbs could hear him. He took a deep breath and looked straight into Gibbs' ice blue eyes. "I told her. I did. I _never _wanted to lie to you. But she wouldn't let me talk to you about it. Said it was her investigation and you didn't need to know. I think she was afraid of what you might do. She was obsessed with it. It had something to do with her father's death." Gibbs was riveted by the anguish in the expressive hazel eyes, dominating the pale face. He found himself paralysed by shock, unable even to respond. Tony was himself unable to face what he perceived as the disappointment in Gibbs' frozen face and turned sharply away.

"You have no idea," he said his voice barely above a whisper and filled with a vehemence and agony Gibbs had never heard from him before. "You have no idea." Tony repeated. "Everything I did, everything I lost. I told her that when you found out you would never trust me again, that you would forgive almost anything except disloyalty. I told her that you would see lying to you about the things I was having to do as disloyalty. I told her you were complaining about me being a "part-time" Senior Agent. She laughed. She _laughed_ and said that it wasn't true. She said you would always trust _me_. She counted on that. She used me like a twenty dollar whore, and she never even said she was sorry about the way it turned out. She _wasn't _sorry; she didn't get what she wanted so why should she feel sorry for how she used me or what it cost me? And what really turns my stomach is that I _let_ her do it. I was so desperate to feel useful that I let her do that to me." His voice had risen and he was all but shouting. He turned back to face Gibbs and Gibbs saw that his face was flushed with anger and his expression was one of deep self loathing and bitterness.

For his part Tony was feeling as out of control as he had ever felt. He was shocked by the bitter anger that he felt welling up and shocked that he was sufficiently out of control to direct it at Gibbs. He was completely overborne by memories so painful that he felt like he was choking. Deep in this morass of memories were others trying to surface, trying to pull his attention away from the overwhelming, almost physical pain. He could feel, kinaesthetically, Gibbs' arms around him holding and supporting him through another of the excruciating coughing fits he had had to fight his way through in the wake of the Y. pestis. He could almost hear Gibbs' husky voice murmuring soft encouragement as he fought to breathe. It did not cross his mind that he had just relived a portion of that memory moments earlier. Though he was out of Gibbs' current reach he could feel the back of his head tingling as if from a head slap. Gibbs had mentored him and given him so much support; seen him through more crap than any boss or mentor had a right to expect to put up with. He knew in his heart that it was himself and Director Shepard he was truly angry with but he found himself unable to stop the tirade.

"You know Gibbs, you are a hard act to follow. No one wanted anything but you back. Including me. But Jenny knew I needed to feel like I was useful, like I was something other than just the unwanted guy who took your place, and she used that without even hesitating. I did things for my job, for her, that nauseate me today. It makes me sick to think I let her use me to break an innocent woman's heart and destroy her life, just so Jen could have some kind of private...I don't know, resolution, vengeance, whatever. Jeanne didn't deserve that. I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror any more. And then Maddie. Do you know that I almost let Maddie Tyler die just to try to save _you_, because I couldn't face the thought of coming back here, and telling the team that we'd lost you again, that _I'd_ lost you. _You_ drove the car into the damn river, but I gave you CPR for more than a minute before I moved on to Maddie, because I couldn't look at them and tell them you were gone. Because I knew I would never be able to face them _or _myself, I almost let a 23 year old kid die in front of me..." He trailed off; remembering the agony of looking into Gibbs' lifeless eyes, the shattering pain of feelings he had never dared look at too closely, then thinking to himself _Oh I am so fired!_ decided to finish what he was saying. "I saved your life that day and what did I get for it? I lost your confidence and the director's and got the team every shit case for the last six weeks. Which really isn't fair to them, and if you think they don't know it's because of me then you're selling them short."

He stopped, chest heaving, finally managing to wrestle down his temper. He felt physically ill. He turned and walked to the far end of the lab. His head was pounding with a sudden, fierce intensification of his headache, and he rubbed his temples to try to ease the pain. He was appalled that he had revealed so much of what was going through his mind to Gibbs, of all people. He hung his head; he didn't know if he could look Gibbs in the face again. He thought to himself that Gibbs must be furious that a subordinate was dressing him down, virtually yelling at him. Surely, he thought, the ex-marine would have been disgusted and repelled by such a display of nearly hysterical emotionalism and weakness. His own father certainly would have been.

The silence in the lab was pressing, and Tony thought _at least it took considerably more than 2 years to blow things to hell at this job._ Finally he mustered the courage to lift his head and face a still silent Gibbs. He found Gibbs just staring at him, the look on his face cool, and as far as Tony was concerned, unreadable. Tony was silent for a moment and it seemed to him that Gibbs was waiting for something. He thought he knew what it was. "Well," he said with a bitter chuckle "You wanted to know how I got from Philly to Baltimore so fast? Just took a little longer for me to melt down here, is all." He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Gibbs' stony gaze. His heart constricted at the look in the cool blue eyes. Once, he thought to himself, he might have seen sympathy or understanding behind the anger. It hurt, physically, to think he might have just thrown that away along with the respect of a man he admired deeply. "I'm sorry Gibbs," he said, then continued,relatively pleased to find that his voice wasn't shaking, and that he was still able to maintain eye contact, "That wasn't about you and I...I shouldn't have directed it at you. My resignation is in my desk. I'll have it on yours within the hour."

Gibbs noticed the use of his name instead of the more usual "boss" and mentally cursed Jenny Shepard again. It was now obvious to him that Tony had been far more deeply traumatized by Jenny's attempts to nail the arms dealer she blamed for her father's death than any of them had guessed. The self loathing he had heard in Tony's voice cut at him; he found himself thinking that his own behavior in the Tyler case had made a hero of Tony, and yet he was evidently agonizing over the decisions that he had faced that day, to the point that he had lost all perspective on his own actions and had been left in overwhelming pain. Gibbs found himself unaccustomedly close to tears as he realised that his usually resilient agent's self confidence had been completely destroyed, and he himself was at least partly responsible for it. Unable to think of a way to retrieve the situation, he decided as he usually did to go with his gut.

"I don't want your fucking badge!" he snapped sharply. "I didn't mean to imply that I didn't trust you or that I didn't believe you when you said you were going to see Dr. Pitt. For chrissake Tony, it was a joke! Inappropriately timed and just plain inappropriate I grant you, but I just wasn't thinking about how it would sound. I can be remarkably obtuse that way – just ask any of my ex-wives."

Tony just stared at Gibbs for a moment. "Remarkably obtuse?" There was no way he could stop the bitter smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, though it did not reach beyond his lips. "You been hanging around Ducky a lot lately, Boss? Cause I don't think I've ever heard you use that phrase before." He was finding it more than a little disconcerting that Gibbs did not seem to be as angry at him as he expected. He was relieved that he did not see the disgust he knew he could have expected from his father. But then, he thought to himself, Gibbs had never judged him by the standards he had learned from his father.

Hearing the word "boss" fall from Tony's lips made Gibbs relax fractionally, as did the smile that had tugged at his features. Gibbs had deliberately reached for a well remembered phrase from Ducky's repertoire; knowing that it would provoke this reaction from Tony. Not, he thought, that Ducky had been far wrong in using that phrase to characterize Gibbs' interpersonal skills. But it bothered Gibbs that Tony had all to obviously expected him to be furious and disappointed in him. He had seen this before in Tony, and had thought they had moved past it. Tony could have been said to be cringing. His shoulders were hunched protectively and he looked like he was expecting to be hit. As he had before on many occasions Gibbs found himself breathtaken at the amount of damage Tony's difficult childhood had inflicted on the obviously gifted young man.

Suddenly he remembered exactly where he had previously seen that aching, searching look in Tony's eyes, the one that had caught at his memory as they had left the elevator and entered the lab. He had seen it when Tony had been locked in the holding cell, charged with murder, after his acid interpretation of how he might be questioned at trial by a federal prosecutor. It had been the look on his face and in his eyes as he had said "I'm not getting out of this one, am I Boss?", the moment his Senior Field Agent had given up on himself, given up on his own innocence. It had been that look that had first given Gibbs serious doubt about whether they could save Tony; knowing Tony was giving up on himself he had known they were running out of time to prove he'd been framed. Then as now he had been unable to suppress the shiver at the cold chill that crawled up his back when he recognised that defeated look. It alarmed him that Tony was that close to the edge again.

He realized that Tony was still waiting for him to respond and allowed just a trace of amusement to show on his face as he said "You nailed it in one. Ducky's used that phrase to describe me to my face on more than one occasion."

Tony responded guardedly "I'm sorry I raised my voice. I'm not really sure what just happened. I guess I just kinda lost my grip for a moment. It's been a long few weeks. I had no business dumping that crap on you." Gibbs only initial response was to fold his arms and nod thoughtfully. His responses were so far from what Tony had been anticipating that Tony found himself becoming somewhat nervous. He tried to straighten up his posture and school his features into one of the bland, unconcerned looks he had kept pasted to his face almost continuously for the last two weeks. He sensed that Gibbs was not angry with him but, unusually, he was unable to get any real read on his mood.

Gibbs was still trying to collect himself. He was shaken and terribly saddened by what Tony's outburst had revealed about his state of mind. The previous eighteen months had been harder on Tony than any one else on the team. The blows had just never stopped coming. Gibbs understood that this was likely mostly about the one person whose name Tony had scarcely mentioned: Jeanne. Gibbs had never met her but he had seen her effect on Tony, and had had no doubt that Tony was deeply in love with her. He knew that Tony had never stopped looking for her and that he had not resumed dating. In fact the subject of Tony's love life, fodder for Monday morning conversation for the team for years, usually of the most salacious nature, had been rendered totally off limits by his blunt and increasingly angry refusal to play the game. Not even Abby dared to broach the subject any more. Gibbs was all too familiar with the aftermath of broken and destroyed relationships. In the nearly seven years Tony had been with him he had never seen any woman get under Tony's skin and inside his heart the way Jeanne had. Gibbs wasn't entirely sure that Tony had _ever_ cared for anyone as much as he had cared for this woman. Certainly, to Gibbs it seemed that Tony had no idea how to handle the emotional aftermath of losing her.

More important to Gibbs at the moment were Tony's statements about the Tyler case. He thought that agonizing over that case was likely to be sapping Tony's self confidence and that, he thought, was something he could perhaps change. As he tried to kick start his brain and formulate exactly what he wanted to say, Tony scrubbed at his face with his hands then pushed off from the table he had been leaning against and took a couple of steps towards the lab doors.

"Well, Boss, it's Thursday. I need to get on upstairs if I want to see Jen...the Director today," he said with a fairly credible imitation of his usual carefree attitude. _Not a chance, Tony _thought Gibbs as he deliberately stepped into Tony's path and his personal space.

"We're not quite done here yet, DiNozzo,"he said, somewhat brusquely. Tony, his way to the lab doors blocked unless he wanted to turn and go around the table holding Abby's prized gas chromatograph, halted and just stared at Gibbs. He was on uncertain emotional footing here. Ordinarily, the quiet, brusque "We're not done" would have indicated extreme anger or dissatisfaction with some aspect of his job performance. But though he couldn't have said why, Tony was sure that Gibbs wasn't angry, and he had already said he didn't want Tony's resignation. For the first time in years Tony found himself so disconnected from his own world that he could not begin to fathom his boss's mood or predict his next move. Taken aback by this realisation he thought to himself that perhaps he ought to press the issue of resigning, reasoning that if he could no longer sense Gibb's mood or follow his thought patterns in his own head he might conceivably endanger the team if he stayed in the Senior Field Agent position.

Gibbs had no trouble at all following Tony's train of thought and said forcefully, "I don't want your resignation and I trust that if you say you went to see Dr. Pitt and he cleared you it's the truth. I don't have any questions about your physical fitness for field duty. But right at the moment I DO have some concerns about your psychological fitness." Tony grimaced and rubbed a hand over his face again. He opened his mouth to speak but Gibbs cut him off.

"Tony," he said, trying to gentle his voice and convey with his tone what he found so difficult to say aloud, " All of us have cases that get under our skins and leave us questioning our own judgment. Kate felt that way when she had to shoot Ensign Hayes. But it really bothers me to see you doing this to yourself over the Maddie Tyler case."

Tony couldn't help it. There was no way he could keep a look of complete astonishment off his face. He was completely dumbfounded, and beginning to feel a deep, explosive rage boil up inside of himself. He had expected Gibbs to bring up the La Grenouille case and what had happened with Jeanne. He just stared, puzzled as to why Gibbs would be upset by what he had said about the Tyler case. Gibbs did not have any trouble deciphering this astonishment either.

"Tony, what happened with Jeanne, we need to talk about that too, but not here and not now. I want to do that when we have more time and when we're both a little more prepared to to talk, and to do it honestly. But I do want you to know that I don't question your fitness or judgment because of that case. But about Maddie..."Gibbs caught the sudden flash of fury and disbelief in Tony's eyes and a fraction of a second later was interrupted as Tony sneered at him, "You don't question my fitness or judgment because of the La Grenouille case but you have some concern over the Tyler case. You don't fucking expect me to believe that do you? How stupid do you think I am? Come on Gibbs, I've been with you for six and a half years."There was a weary bitterness now in Tony's voice and eyes. "I knew you'd never trust me again after that case. You don't have to lie to me about it. And for Christ's sake don't fucking patronize me; I've had enough of that from Jen."

Gibbs ground his teeth as he fought to control his anger. "That's enough!" he snapped forcefully. "I've given you more latitude than anyone I've ever worked with DiNozzo, because I trusted you more than any one I ever worked with. But there is one thing I'm not prepared to just let slide and that is insubordinate behavior. Now get a grip."

Tony turned and stalked to the far end of the lab. He was trembling with fury and did not trust his own control. He did not want to be within arms reach of Gibbs. He sensed that his rage was spiraling out of all proportion to the circumstances but he couldn't seem to get a handle on it. It took all the strength he had left to spit tightly at Gibbs "I would strongly suggest you exit the lab, sir." Gibbs heard the echo of the military boarding school in Tony's voice and recognised the danger signals. He was not concerned for his own safety but he was concerned, for Tony's sake, that things might escalate too rapidly for either of them to maintain any real control. He let a trace of his own military past color his voice as he shot back tightly "Agent DiNozzo STAND DOWN. We need to take this out of the building, son." The "son" slipped past his usual defenses, a verbal vestige of his later years in the Marines dealing with very young, raw and severely stressed recruits.

Tony found himself staring at a monitor which had an abstract pattern moving, across it, thrumming, twisting and changing in time to music he could just marginally hear coming from Abby's headphones. He was transfixed by the rage that was vibrating through him. He felt like reality was beginning to stretch and twist like the patterns on the screen. Suddenly he recognized the feeling, knew instantly what it portended. But there was nothing he could do to prevent himself from being swept away in the rage flooding his mind and saturating his nerves. He felt, acutely, the moment he was taken. He wanted to cry out, scream a protest but a soft gasp was all that escaped him as he turned.

Gibbs watched in shock as he grabbed the nearest flat screen monitor and with a single vicious tug pulled it free from its cabling and began pounding on the edge of the table until it shattered into hundreds of pieces. A single large piece was left in his grip and he tossed this across the room more or less in the general direction of Gibbs. Having done that he began pounding on the table with his fists.

Gibbs was taken aback by what he was seeing but didn't hesitate. He moved in close and grabbed Tony's wrists at the same time leg sweeping him, taking him completely off his feet. He moved his thigh forward slightly and shifted his weight onto that leg so that Tony's upper body hit his thigh on the way down breaking the fall somewhat. Tony's momentum pulled him down too and he wound up straddling him trying to force his still flailing fists to the floor.

He leaned over and hissed in Tony's ear "DiNozzo, you're on camera. Stand down dammit. Tony! Do you want HR to see this?" Tony continued to struggle for a few seconds before stilling. From a distance of only about a foot and a half Gibbs stared into Tony's face. What he saw confused and disturbed him. Tony's face was completely slack, and as blank as his eyes. Gibbs could feel that Tony had not just stopped struggling, he had gone completely limp. Then he noticed that Tony's open eyes appeared to be tracking something only he could see. It crossed Gibbs' mind that Tony might actually be hallucinating. He had never seen his senior agent like this and it alarmed him.

He let go of one of Tony's wrists and very lightly tapped the side of his head. "Tony?" he whispered "You with me?"

Tony did not respond for a couple of seconds and Gibbs snapped his fingers directly in front of Tony's face as he said urgently "DiNozzo! Are you hurt?" He saw Tony's gaze sharpen as his focus locked on to Gibbs' eyes, saw the frown that passed quickly over his features and was as quickly gone.

"You can get off me now, Boss" said Tony quietly, as if it was a common thing to find himself in such a position. Gibbs released his other wrist. Tony remained exactly as he had landed, unmoving until Gibbs reached down and grabbed a hand and hauled him to his feet by main force. Bits of the shattered monitor crunched under both their feet. Tony surveyed the wreckage and the frown returned to his face and stayed there. Gibbs, watching him closely, thought he seemed a little dazed.

Tony shook his head and looked around. Gibbs thought suddenly _He's looking for Abby_. Quietly he said "Tony, are you okay?"

Tony's focus snapped to Gibbs' face and he said suddenly, urgently, "Where's Abby? Did I hurt her?" Gibbs was confused at this. "What? Hurt her? What do you mean?" The anxiety in Tony's face sharpened as he looked at his aching hands for a moment. He looked back up at Gibbs with anguish written all over his face and said even more urgently, "Did I hurt her?" He looked searchingly at Gibbs' face for a long moment then said more quietly, "Did I hurt you?" Gibbs just stared at Tony. Tony's sincerity was obvious but Gibbs didn't know what to make of it. He didn't know what to say; it was painfully obvious that Tony did not remember how he had hurt his hands, and it was equally obvious, to Gibbs at least, that this was not the first time Tony had found himself in this position.

"Tony, what's the very last thing you remember?" he asked.

Tony stared at his hands. He couldn't believe this was happening to him again. It had been so long that he had believed it was over and he was safe. Now Gibbs would have to know the truth and Tony had no doubt what the outcome would be. Gibbs' question still hung in the air as he closed his eyes and tried to sift through memories that were really more splashes of emotion. Finally he locked on to the most vivid emotion and the words and images associated with it. It felt like the most recent memory to him But the extreme anger he recalled bothered him. He wondered if that was when the episode had actually begun. Another thought occurred to him and he looked up sharply at Gibbs.

"Oh my God, _was_ it you? Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

Gibbs was getting more and more frustrated, but he tried to keep this under control. The utter horror on Tony's face was too obviously genuine. "Tony, you didn't hurt anybody, not me , and certainly not Abby. I'm not sure why you would think that except that you clearly don't remember what just happened. You smashed up one of Abby's plasma monitors."

Tony looked back down at his hands, which were bruised and bleeding. His eyes swept the floor, taking in the bits and pieces of the shattered monitor. He looked at Gibbs, carefully assessing his condition. Gibbs seemed unruffled and untouched. Tony sighed as his eyes finally met Gibbs'. "How did my hands get hurt then?" he asked resignedly.

Gibbs began to feel like he was a rat in an unsolvable maze. He was confused and not a little alarmed by what had just happened. DiNozzo seemed to be talking in circles and, to Gibbs, still looked somewhat dazed. All the anger and fight seemed to have gone out of DiNozzo and his eyes now seemed to hold mainly a deep sadness mixed with something Gibbs read as defeat. He was just standing there, absently rubbing the knuckles of one bleeding hand with the other and waiting for Gibbs' reply. He had no idea what had just happened but it was clear to him that DiNozzo knew exactly what had happened, and he evidently wasn't going to be forthcoming. He knew he needed answers but his gut was telling him they would likely have to wait a while.

He sighed and said "You grabbed one of Abby's plasma screens and smashed it against the table, and when it was all smashed up you just continued pounding your fists against the table. I had to take you down to stop you from hurting yourself. And then you just kinda went blank for a few seconds."

Tony nodded, clearly unsurprised by what Gibbs had said. "Okay. And I didn't hit _you._ You're sure?"

"I think I would know if you had."

"Well, yeah, you would know, but would you tell me?" Tony asked, searching Gibbs' face, concern in his eyes.

For some reason the question took Gibbs' breath away for a moment. Had things really deteriorated between them to the point that Tony thought he would lie about something like that?

"Of course I would tell you," he said quietly. "Now are you going to tell me what just happened here?" Tony winced slightly at that and wearily rubbed at his eyes and the space between them, unknowingly smearing a little blood on his forehead. Without waiting for an answer Gibbs moved to Tony's side and, taking hold of his arm, gently propelled him over to the lab's sink. "Let's get your hands washed up," he said gruffly," you're getting blood all over your face." He noted that Tony had let himself be pulled to the sink without resistance.

Gibbs opened the taps and regulated the water to a comfortable warmth.. Tony just stood there, apparently lost in his own thoughts. He didn't resist as Gibbs gently took his battered hands and pulled them under the water. Gibbs thought he didn't even seem to be aware of it. His concern for Tony was quickly morphing into alarm. He pumped a little soap into his palm and quickly lathered Tony's hands. Tony was still, unresisting and unmoving. It was beginning to unnerve Gibbs. Gibbs looked up to his face and saw a vacancy there that made his skin crawl. He rinsed off his own hands and nudged Tony sharply, finally getting a reaction as Tony's head turned toward him.

"Why don't you finish this up? You should have been doing this since you were about what, three, four?" Gibbs strove to keep his voice level and relatively unconcerned. He found it increasingly difficult to remain calm as the vacant look on Tony's face was replaced by a slightly quizzical one. Tony glanced down at his hands and Gibbs could almost literally see him searching through a database of 'socially acceptable' replies before he finally said "Of course. I'm sorry." This bland reply did nothing to settle Gibbs' anxiety.

Tony for his part was still struggling to catch up. He knew exactly what had just happened, and was, unfortunately well acquainted with the almost detached, distant state of mind he found himself in. He knew his mentation would clear relatively quickly but he was in no shape to be verbally sparring with Gibbs. He hoped that Gibbs would back off, and give him the space to act to preserve some small fragment of what was left of his dignity and honor, but wasn't sure that he would. But he was so numb now that at the moment it was only a small thing. He really didn't think he had much of either left to preserve anyway. He rinsed his hands and pulled several paper towels out to dry them without even glancing at Gibbs again. Gibbs might have thought he was a million miles away in his mind, but actually he was back more than nine years into his own past, in a dark and terrible place. When Gibbs' hand landed on his shoulder he reacted instinctively, ducking his head and bringing his arms up sharply to protect his head and face, twisting convulsively away.

Gibbs, startled and unsure of what was going through Tony's mind, stepped back and held up both hands, palms out, to try to show he was not being threatening. Tony, overbalanced by the sudden movement, had to grab the edge of the sink to keep himself upright. As he regained his feet he gasped "Jeeze, Boss don't startle me like that!"

"Didn't mean to," Gibbs said softly. He took the paper towels from Tony's hands and turning the tap on, dampened them. "You've still got some blood on your forehead," he said, reaching up and gently wiping the blood away. Tony flinched slightly, but Gibbs just continued wiping until all the blood was cleaned off. He didn't want to push Tony any further; it was clear to him that Tony was still trying to orient himself and that he had caught his Senior Field Agent in the grip of some frightening memory he suspected was related to his damaged childhood. He had recognized Tony's protective gesture as the obvious reaction of someone who was being beaten, someone who had been beaten severely and often. He had seen the gesture before, a number of times, usually when he woke Tony from restless sleep. He sighed, and thought to himself that he just wanted to be done pushing Tony for today, but he knew he need to find out exactly what it was he had witnessed.

He threw the paper towels in the trash and stepped back, just watching as Tony turned the water back on and splashed his face and dried it. He continued to just watch as Tony straightened his jacket and tie, brushed off some fragments of the monitor that still clung to his jacket, and slowly turned to face him. Tony had clearly regained his self-possession very quickly.

Gibbs caught his breath. He had seen Tony under many circumstances and knew pretty much all his many personas. He was well acquainted with the masks Tony used to conceal himself from the world. Tony had one mask, one persona he habitually wore at work and that was the man most people actually thought he was. Gibbs knew better, knew that under the perpetual overgrown frat boy was an exceptionally intelligent, thoughtful and deeply reserved man. A man he had seen out in the open only a few times, mostly in that terrible two month period when Tony had nearly died from the plague and Kate had actually died on that godforsaken roof. He was looking at that man now.

The thoughtful, intelligent hazel eyes appraised him without heat. The anger, bitterness and overwhelming pain that had been in those eyes only minutes earlier was completely gone. Mostly, he just looked tired. The silence stretched out, as if Tony was waiting for Gibbs to say something. Gibbs found that he could not begin to formulate any words he wanted to put out into that silence. He found that cool, direct gaze almost unnerving. Finally, Tony spoke.

"I'm guessing you have a few questions you'd like answers to."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, I'd kind of like to know what just happened here, what the hell is going on."

Tony rubbed his left temple to try to ease the persistent headache. After a moment he said "Why don't I come by your place later this evening and we can talk about it."

"Why can't we discuss it now?" Gibbs asked, anger beginning to rise at the thought of being put off again.

"Because right now I need to see the Director and after that I need to talk to Ducky."

"I really think right now you need to talk to me first, DiNozzo." Gibbs wanted answers badly and didn't want to let Tony out of his sight until he had them. Too much had happened over too short a period of time. But he could already see that DiNozzo wasn't going to budge. He was staggeringly, almost glacially calm, considering how out of control with rage he had been just minutes earlier.

"We don't have the time to do this here and now, Boss" Tony said softly. "You know that Jen leaves early on Thursdays; and, to be blunt, I'm not talking to you until I've had a chance to talk to Ducky. Let me come by your place later this evening. I promise, by the time I leave, there'll be no more secrets between us."

"Is that your diplomatic way of saying that right now there _are _secrets between us?" asked Gibbs, unable to keep the edge of resentment out of his voice.

Tony sighed. He didn't want to do this right now. He was just so goddamn tired. This was a moment he had been dreading for years, but now that it was on him he couldn't even muster the energy to feel fear or apprehension. He cocked his head slightly and fixed Gibbs with a coolly appraising stare. Gibbs was, he noted , most unusually, figiting, nervous under Tony's gaze. It took Tony a moment to realize that it was because Gibbs knew that the situation had moved into unfamiliar territory, beyond his control.

It didn't occur to Tony that it might be because Gibbs was afraid for him.

"Come on, Gibbs," Tony said, his exhaustion now clear in his voice. "I never pushed you for your secrets. Not even when I knew what they were. Not even when we both knew what they were doing to us. I'll be there. I'll answer all your questions. I'm only asking for a few hours. Is it really that hard?" His voice broke on the last word, and a wave of intense grief, for what he did not know, swept through him. He hoped Gibbs didn't see it on his face, but he couldn't stop his eyes from filling and had to look away. He took a single deep breath, closing his eyes for a second then looked back. Gibbs' face was white, eyes wide with what appeared to shock.

"Well?" asked Tony after a long few seconds of silence.

"No. No, it's not that hard. I just, ..I...I'm worried about you. And when I get worried, I want answers, usually as fast as possible." Gibbs swallowed hard. He had been totally unprepared for anything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Saying what he had just said, acknowledging his fear, had been incredibly difficult for him. But Tony had seldom if ever asked him for anything, and had promised that he would come clean about what was going on. It wasn't too much to ask, and though it rankled Gibbs, he bit back hard on his anxiety. "I'd really like to know what the heck is going on, what just happened. But...it can wait until this evening."

"Okay." Tony nodded slowly. "I'm not trying to worry you or wind you up, Boss. I just need some time. Seven thirty? I'll bring some Thai..." He trailed off as Gibbs interrupted him. "Eight o'clock. I'll roast a chicken."

"Boss, you don't have to cook for me. Let me pick something up on the way."

"I don't cook this chicken I'm going to have to pitch it. I seem to recall you like roast chicken, don't you?"

Tony yielded, relieved that Gibbs was backing off and giving him the time he needed. "Yeah, sure. I just didn't want to put you out any further. I'll bring some beer, then."

"You bring beer, bring a clean shirt too."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Two beers and you're done for the evening. You'll be sleeping over. No way I'm letting you drive. " Gibbs smiled slightly. "You know the house rules, DiNozzo."

Tony shrugged tiredly. "Okay, Boss, house rules. I think we'll need Ducky there too." He watched as Gibbs nodded slowly. House rules. Huh. He realized Gibbs was reaching for some sense of normalcy, and it hurt him, because he knew they were long past that and he wondered why Gibbs didn't know that. But now he needed to get through the next few hours, get his team off the hook, and warn Ducky that the day they had hoped would never come had suddenly arrived.

He pushed off from the sink he'd been leaning against and said, "Well, if I don't get to the Director before her chauffeur, I won't get to talk to her till tomorrow. Do me a favor, will you Boss? Call Ducky and ask him to meet me in autopsy in about 15 minutes, would you?"

"Okay. Fifteen minutes going to be long enough for your talk with Jen?"

"Should be. It's not like I need to give her my life history. Just a little letter, so she'll let her top Major Case team do their jobs." Tony offered a mirthless half smile. "I mean if McGee is bored because Jen is concerned about _my _health, it's kinda up to me to get her off their backs." He began to move towards the lab doors.

Gibbs called after him "Maybe you should wait until morning to talk to her," knowing even as he said it that that wasn't likely to happen.

Tony stopped and turned back to Gibbs. The weary sadness was back on his face, and Gibbs was startled to realize that Tony was looking at him with something very like pity in his eyes. "No," he said simply. "I need to see her now."

"In light of what just happened here, what are you going to say to her?" said Gibbs with a touch of incredulity in his voice. A trace of amusement showed on Tony's face.

"Not much. I'm just going to give her a letter. It's not about me today, Gibbs. It's not right, what she's doing to the team. Don't forget to call Ducky, will you?" He turned and began moving towards the doors again.

"Tony..." Gibbs called after him. Once again Tony stopped and turned towards him, giving Gibbs an interrogative look as he did so.

"Yes?"

"Be careful. You give Jen that badge and she'll keep it." To Gibbs' astonishment, a genuine smile of amusement crossed Tony's features as he responded "I know." For just a moment his usual office persona seemed in place but Gibbs saw it fall from him like a cloak as he turned and strode to the elevator. Gibbs followed, standing just inside the lab doors and watching him as he waited for the elevator to arrive.

The elevator finally came and Tony boarded, turning and pressing the button for the floor he wanted. He had been looking down, but just as the elevator doors began to close he looked up and his eyes locked with Gibbs' for a long moment.

Gibbs was unprepared for the intensity of the fear and pain that shot through him as their gazes locked.

Those expressive eyes, shining a cat-like green under the elevator's lighting, were utterly, chillingly empty.

Try though he might Gibbs could not repress the thought that had accompanied that wave of fear.

_My God, I'm losing him._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**Wow, I really don't know what to say. To all of you who reviewed and alerted this story thanks so, so, much. I'm really sorry for the delay in updating. It's now clear to me that my health means that updates will not be as frequent as I might wish. They will probably be every six to eight weeks at a minimum. I promise I will do my level best to get them out as quickly as possible. Rest assured though, this story will be finished. Your encouragement and well wishes have meant more to me than I can say. I sincerely hope that I can continue to live up to your expectations, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story. I also want to extend my deepest thanks to Zaedah, who (among others) checked on me to see if I was ok, offered lots of support and encouragement, and gave me some extremely useful concrit on this chapter. Any of you who are reading this, I encourage you to check out Zaedah's work. It's wonderful.

Warnings: Rated T+ for mature themes, intense violence (later chapters). Swearing may abound. "F" word in there somewhere.

Spoilers. Possible through season 5, though story now quite AU.

Disclaimer: Won't ever be mine (sobs hysterically). House of God isn't mine either doggone it.

**Loyalty on the Razor's Edge**

**Chapter 3**

In the NCIS bullpen, McGee looked up as Abby spilled out of the elevator chanting his name over and over. As he often was, he found himself bemused at the speed at which she could move in her 3 inch platform boots without breaking an ankle. She fetched up at his workspace, giving no evidence of even seeing Ziva and, grabbing his shoulders, spun his chair until he was nearly nose to nose with her. He wouldn't have needed to know her well to be aware of her distress; knowing her as well as he did, he could see even through her geisha-white makeup that she was pale and her eyes were red.

"McGee, McGee, I really need to know what's going on between Tony and Gibbs, cause Gibbs just like threw me out of my own lab and even though Tony just solved the Dickerson case he looks really mad at Tony and he said something about Tony resigning and I have a really really bad feeling about all this and..." she trailed off, hands still waving about in her distress, as McGee put his hands on her shoulders and said "Abs, you've got to slow down and give it to us in smaller chunks, 'cause we really can't follow what you're saying when you're like this."

"Take a deep breath, Abby, and start again," said Ziva in a calm decisive manner that had always irritated Abby. She stared at Ziva as if just noticing for the first time that there was another member in Gibbs' team. But she took the advised deep breath and found that it did help. She had always been annoyed by the fact that Ziva seemed unable to tolerate the way she handled her anxiety, and it had also always annoyed her that Ziva herself never seemed to exhibit any anxiety no matter how dire the situation. The deep breath seemed to help her remember that she had eventually warmed up to the Mossad agent. And now that she looked closer, she found that she could in fact see signs of distress on her face also.

In her ear McGee was saying "Did you just say that Tony solved the Dickerson case?" while behind her Ziva was saying "Did you just say that Tony has _resigned_?"

Silence fell suddenly around McGee's desk as she answered both questions with a single, simple "Yes."

Tears suddenly filled Abby's eyes and, wrapping her long arms around McGee's neck, she crawled into his lap and buried her head on his shoulder and let them come. McGee wrapped his arms around Abby's waist to hold her securely while he tried to process what he had just heard. He did not even bother to try to conceal the sadness and anxiety in his eyes as his gaze met Ziva's.

"That's what he put in his pocket," Ziva said softly.

"What?" asked McGee, rubbing Abby's back gently as her crying began to ease off.

"His badge," Ziva replied, turning away abruptly to keep McGee from seeing that she was tearing up herself. She shook her head and wiped angrily at her eyes, annoyed with herself for being so upset at the thought that Tony might have resigned without even discussing it with his team. She cursed softly in Hebrew under her breath. How had she gotten so close to these people? When she had accepted the liaison position with NCIS, she had been exhausted, emotionally as well as physically. She had needed to escape the culture inside Mossad, and the close eye of her father. She had formed an unlikely friendship with Gibbs and had deeply appreciated the way he backed her to Mossad over the whole incident with Ari.

But she had never expected to get so involved with the members of his team, never expected to come to care so much for them, especially Tony. He had bothered her from the beginning with antics she considered both juvenile and sexist and occasionally, even spiteful. But, she had realised very quickly that Gibbs would never have tolerated the kinds of behaviors that seemed to be the sum total of Tony DiNozzo, if that were in fact all there was to the man. Then she watched him work the cases, watched him interact with victims and families, watched him produce information seemingly from nowhere, watched as dizzying leaps in logic broke cases and solved seemingly insoluble puzzles. She watched him, despite the projected attitude of laziness, work himself into the ground, working hours that exhausted even her, and working with an efficiency that shocked her initially. She realised that he cared deeply for the people he was trying to help find justice, and even more deeply for his team. She saw that he used the often juvenile humour, and gadfly irritation tactics, in much the same way Gibbs used the angry bark, and the cold stare, and the reputation as a bastard: as tools to produce the results he wanted. She found it hard to credit that he might walk away from NCIS over a single busted operation even if it _was_ the grotesquely fouled up La Grenouille case. But like all of the team she had been aware that he had been damaged by what he had been through and that he seemed unable to get back on balance. And she had seen it happen too often to Mossad agents. Destroyed by what they had been through, what they had had to do, most of them wound up dead. She'd rather Tony walked.

She turned back to McGee and Abby. Abby had stopped crying but still looked grieved and on edge.. McGee looked solemn and unhappy. "Abby," she said, trying to temper the edge in her voice, "What exactly happened in your lab?"

Abby sniffled for a moment then got up from McGee's lap and began pacing back and forth in front of his desk. "Well I had just got the DNA back from the samples Tony had me test, and I realized that he had solved the Dickerson case. I was just about to call him and let him know when he and Gibbs came into my lab. They looked, I don't know, tense and Tony looked... almost angry and very upset. So anyway, I told him that he'd been right and that we'd broke the case and that just seemed to piss Gibbs off, and that's really not like him at all, he's always proud and satisfied when Tony cracks these cold cases but he seemed angry to discover Tony had been working on it at all...," she paused for a breath, then continued in a rush, "So anyway I signed to Gibbs what was his problem, cause you know he seemed really upset, and he signed back that Tony had just tried to resign and asked me to vamoose so I did."

She looked back and forth between Ziva and McGee, seeing the anxiety, the doubt and sadness that she knew was probably also visible on her own face. "Guys, Tony's been sliding down for a long time. We can't just let him go without fighting for him. Gibbs won't just let him go. We need to do something, we need to let Tony know that we won't just let him walk away. I mean, he's family. You don't just give up on family." She stared hard at her two colleagues, her hands once again waving in distress. She repeated her statement, louder and more forcefully, "You don't give up on family."

"No, indeed, my dear Abigail, you do not. And I don't think any of us intends to do so. Certainly Jethro will not." The cultured Scottish burr seemed to soothe Abby's distress as Dr. Mallard advanced towards them. Abby's hands stilled and she turned and looked almost suspiciously at him.

"What do you know about what's going on with Tony, Ducky? Did you know he was planning to resign?" she demanded.

A look of intense unhappiness crossed Ducky's face. "Oh dear me, no. I had no idea things had got to such an extremity. I know that he and Jethro were having quite an animated and tense discussion in your lab a moment ago, but I didn't think things had gotten to an irretrievable point." He looked uncomfortable and pensive as he continued "Of course I'm sure we all know Tony's never really had a chance to regain his equilibrium after all the events of the last year or so. He's been under considerable strain. Even the strongest of people can burn out under intense and unrelieved pressure. _Has_ Tony actually resigned?" He perched on the edge of Gibbs' desk, surveying the three people in front of him, easily seeing the depth of their feelings and the acute intensity of their anxiety. He had no problem seeing it; he felt the same.

"Gibbs signed to me that he tried to, I guess in the elevator on the way down to my lab. Gibbs looked really pissed about it too. But Tony looked...bad. He looked tired, like he," she paused, tears coming back to her eyes. "He looked like he was just exhausted. Like he just couldn't do it any more. He looked like he did after Kate died. You know how sick he was when he came back and how bad he looked after – after she was shot. You know how hard he drove himself in those first days after. He looks worse now, Ducky, I swear. More than that he looked, I don't know, bitter, angry maybe. When I told them that he had solved the Dickerson case, all Gibbs said was 'When did you start working this case?' and I swear, Duckman, I thought Tony was gonna punch him! I've never seen things like that between the two of them, not even when Gibbs was at his maddest and Tony was deliberately baiting him. Never." she hiccuped to a stop.

Ducky opened his arms to her, folding her into a tight hug and gently soothing her as his eyes met first Ziva's, then McGee's. He understood suddenly that things were much worse than any of them had evidently realised and for the first time in a long while he could think of nothing to say.

After a few moments, Ducky guided Abby back over to McGee's cubicle, and Ziva joined them there. They remained there for a while, talking softly amongst themselves about their colleague and what, if anything, they might be able to do for him. Then McGee's phone rang.

He looked at the caller ID and looked back up at the group somberly. "It's the lab line. That means it's either Tony or Gibbs," he said softly, unsure if he really wanted to answer it.

"It will be Gibbs," said Ziva. She nodded her head towards the overlooking balcony. "There's Tony. It looks like he's headed for the director's office."

McGee swallowed hard and laid his shaking hand on the phone handset. His eyes, though, like Ziva's, and Abby's and Ducky's too, were following Tony as he strode across the balcony. They all saw Tony's eyes cut towards them, saw a brief look of pain cross his features, saw that he forced himself to look away from them. Ziva cursed audibly in Hebrew, as Abby said simply, softly, "Oh fuck. No." McGee closed his eyes and picked up the phone.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

As the elevator doors closed and the car began to move, Tony closed his eyes and leaned his aching head against the cool stainless steel. He felt numb, emptied and utterly unable to cope with all the things swirling inside him. Absently, his fingers slipped under his collar and found the thin, fine silver chain, tugging it up till the ring that was hanging from the chain was in his fingers. He worried the ring back and forth between his thumb and first two fingers, as if it were a prayer bead, feeling the engraving he knew by heart. The motion was soothing, helping him gather and focus his thoughts.

He had not thought that things could get any worse, that his life could get any more complicated. "Anthony," he whispered softly to himself, "You forgot the first law of the House of God. They can _always _hurt you more." He'd been in college when he'd read that book and realised that a striking number of its aphorisms really were true. No matter how bad things were, they could always get worse. Dryly he thought _I really __**really**__ ought to know that by now._

The elevator car began to slow and he tucked the chain with its ring back under his collar out of sight. He took a deep breath to steady himself as the car came to a stop, and checked his watch. It was a little after four thirty.

_Four hours, _he thought. _The worst part of this will be over in four hours. Five max if Gibbs decides to draw out dinner. You can make four or five hours. You have to. For all their sakes._

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out, office mask firmly in place, moving with his usual brisk confident stride. His eyes cut sideways over the balcony and he caught sight of his team, Abby and Ducky included, gathered around McGee's desk. McGee was just answering his phone. Even from the balcony he could see the worry etched on all their faces. He knew it was for him and he had to look away from them. He had been surprised to see that Ziva looked almost _upset_. He gritted his teeth as a wave of guilt washed through him. He knew he could not spare the emotional energy for this right now. Jenny was a perceptive woman and he knew he'd have to be on top of his game if he wanted things to go his way in his meeting with her. Then there was Gibbs. He had no illusions; he knew Gibbs would be right up there after him as soon as he got off the phone with Ducky. He'd have at best just a couple of minutes alone with the Director to sell it and then he'd have to sell Gibbs too. The next half hour was going to push him to his limits.

He turned left down the hallway that led to the Director's office and ducked into the single stall men's room on the right of the hall. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he eyed himself critically in the mirror. He dampened his hands and ran them through his hair, then wet some paper towels and wiped his face, letting the cool wet towels rest on his eyes for a moment. He dried his face and hands and ran his comb through his hair. He brushed a tiny piece of the smashed monitor off of his suit jacket and decided he looked as good as he was going to. Glancing at his bruised hands he realised he would just have to hope Jenny didn't notice them. Looking back up at the mirror he tried one of his usual grins on for size and decided quickly that it looked far too brittle. Okay. The straight serious approach then. It was riskier; he knew he had trouble keeping things out of his eyes when he couldn't use his humour, but Jenny had never been able to read him as well as Gibbs, and he was reasonably sure that if he moved things along quickly he could carry it off.

He left the men's room and covered the distance to the Director's office in a few long strides. He breezed in through the doors into the outer office, and spotting the Director's assistant gave her a genuine smile. He really, really liked Cynthia.

"Hey, beautiful". A slight frown of concern crossed his face. "You look a little tired, hon. Have we been keeping you too busy?" His concern was genuine. Cynthia did look tired and that was unusual. The last time she had looked this worn had been when they were running all those after hours undercover ops around the La Grenouille case. He didn't exactly need the reminder at the moment.

Cynthia smiled back, glad to see him. She liked Tony a lot and considered him a good friend. She had been warned by office grapevine when she first came to NCIS not to get involved with Gibbs' senior agent. Rumor had it he was a player who would, if he thought her attractive, try his very best (and according to the grapevine his best was very good) to get her into bed, then drop her cold after a week or two. The grapevine could not have been more wrong.

From the very beginning he had treated her with an almost meticulous professional courtesy, a politeness that was tempered with a genuine warmth, and an attention to her moods and her occasional need for him to assist her in her interactions with the notorious First Team Lead Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, whose reputation also preceded him. Then one day he had picked up on the fact that she was, for her, unusually subdued, and had offered to buy her lunch. She had been wary, but hurting, and accepted. She'd been on her guard, but he had taken her to a nice restaurant, bought her a very nice lunch and deftly steered the conversation till she found herself telling him all about her breakup with her long term boyfriend 2 days earlier, and how it had gotten a little physical.

"Is that why you're wearing long sleeves even though it's ninety-two degrees outside?" he had asked, very gently, as he'd taken her hand and pushed up her left sleeve, fingertips lightly brushing the ugly bruise circling her wrist. She hadn't trusted herself to speak and merely nodded. She had been shocked at the sudden change in his eyes. His usually sparkling and lively eyes had gone cold, almost dead, and scarily empty, but his voice had retained its gentle warmth as he had quietly said "Do you want me to take care of it?"

Badly frightened by the shark like emptiness in his eyes, she had stammered "Wh...what?"

He had simply, coolly, repeated the question, adding "Or I could ask Gibbs to, if you'd prefer..." He had held her hand and her eyes as he had waited for a response. She had appraised him for a long few seconds then said "Thanks, but no. He's long gone and I made sure he won't be back.."

The life and warmth had returned to his eyes as he'd released her hand and leaned back. Waving the waiter over he had ordered her a half glass of wine. She had waited for him to make a move, hit on her in some way, but instead he had only said "If you need anything, help, someone to vent to, that kind of thing...well, I believe you have access to the master cell phone list, no?" He had given her one of his rare warm and gentle smiles that had been mercifully free of any pity, judgment, or condemnation for what she privately considered to be her own gross stupidity, and let the whole subject drop.

He had escorted her back to her office that day and stopped her just outside with a hand on her arm. She had tensed, thinking he was really smooth to delay his approach till that moment, but all he had said was "I meant it, Cyn. If you need a friend for something, I'm always around." His eyes had wrinkled with concern as he added "Be careful, okay?"

Then Gibbs had rounded the corner and snapped "If you're done romancing the Director's assistant, DiNozzo, we have a case," and had kept on going at full steam. Tony had given Cynthia a wryly amused look while tossing "On it, Boss," after the retreating form. He had stayed long enough to say "If I'm not in the bullpen I'm on my cell, okay?" He'd waited till she nodded then gave her one of his trademark leering grins while he eyed her figure appreciatively for just a moment. Then he had turned on his heel and disappeared into the wake of his long gone boss. She had formed the definite opinion that he had ogled her so openly just to reassure her that it wasn't because he didn't find her attractive, that he hadn't hit on her.

Though he had occasionally flirted with her as the years passed, she could tell it was tongue in cheek; he never crossed any lines and what was between them had ripened into a warm and comfortable friendship. She was certain that she saw a side of Tony others seldom saw. Free from the need to maintain his image as either the sexually aggressive player or the highly competitive Senior Field Agent of NCIS' top major case team, she found him an exceptionally warm, caring, and supportive friend.

She had sensed at once that Agent Todd's recent death had devastated him, and had been touched that he trusted her friendship enough to open up to her a little about his grief and anger, and his sense of loss. When he had talked to her about his initial reservations about Ziva, he had not tried to manipulate her or use her friendship to get information; instead, he had simply asked her directly if there was anything she felt able to share concerning Ziva's "friendship" with Director Shepard. She had been both glad for him, and very proud of him, as he had assumed the mantle of Team Lead after Gibbs' 'retirement'. She interacted with all the team leads, and she knew he had done a superlative job. She had worried for him as the undercover operations had taken their toll, and ached to see the bewilderment in his face, and the misery in his eyes, after Gibbs had handed him his belongings in a cardboard box and casually demoted him back to Senior Field Agent in front of the entire bullpen. She had been as aware as he had been that Gibbs' performance was still suffering when he returned from Mexico. For the sake of their friendship, she had helped him to protect Gibbs, whom she had respected and whom she knew Tony idolized. She had hurt for both men, when she had realised that their relationship had never really been the same after Gibbs' return.

She hadn't thought she would ever stop having nightmares after she, along with the Director, Tony's team and about fifteen other people had watched Tony's car explode in bright, grisly color on every screen in MTAC. She had seen the shock and guilt in Jenny's face; but it had been Gibbs' total disintegration in the hallway outside of MTAC that still haunted her. Though his face had been grey with shock, and his eyes bright, Gibbs had called Dr. Mallard, notified Dr. Sciuto, given the remainder of his team their orders and conferred with the Director without cracking.

She had been two steps behind Gibbs as he left MTAC and had watched as he suddenly stopped in the hall, trembling, his back to her. He had turned quickly and punched the wall to their left with every ounce of strength he had. Then he had leaned his forearms on the wall and rested his head on them, eyes tightly shut, obviously unaware of her presence. He had whispered "Oh God, Tony...," his voice breaking on his agent's name, then his shoulders had begun to shake. Appalled , she had realised he was probably crying, something she could scarcely conceive of, and she had felt suddenly that she was doing something indecent, witnessing his grief.

She'd watched helplessly for about twenty seconds, as he had fought for control and she'd edged quietly backwards until she was level with the ladies room door. As he had begun to raise his head from his forearms she had ducked quickly through the door, then come right back out, hoping he would believe she had _not_ seen him fall apart. Knowing he had seen her in MTAC, she had walked right up to him and said softly, "I'm so sorry, Agent Gibbs." She'd made no attempt to stem her own tears.

His face had been dry but his eyes had been damp and reddened, and she had thought that day that she had never seen any one so completely destroyed by grief. He had seemed dazed and unable to respond to her condolences. On a sudden thought, she had offered to get him coffee and to her surprise he'd accepted. Going to the beverage station in her office, she filled the largest mug she could find. He had waited, eyes shut, leaning against the wall, and had accepted the coffee with a choked "Thanks." Sure that sooner or later he would have questions about Tony's undercover assignment with Jeanne Benoit, she had lingered after he accepted the coffee. He'd drunk about half the coffee in a few large swallows, then taken a deep, shuddering breath.

The one and only question he had asked that day had taken her totally by surprise. "Was he happy, with her?" His voice had been soft and thick with raw pain.

Startled, she had paused a moment before replying. "With Dr. Benoit? Yes. I've never seen him that happy since I've known him."

Gibbs' eyes had filled and he had looked away, nodding as his jaw tightened and full understanding had finally hit him. He'd closed his eyes in obvious anguish for a few moments, then had raised the mug to his lips and drained the rest of the coffee. Handing the mug back, he had caught her eyes for a second and whispered "Thank you Cynthia." As he had walked away, she had realised that he was thanking her for a multitude of things, but above all, for simply having been enough of a friend to Tony to even know whether he had been happy with Jeanne. Few people ever pitied Jethro Gibbs, but in that moment she had.

When Tony had turned up some seven hours later, alive and physically unharmed, Cynthia would have sworn she had felt the news spreading through the building like a wave, much the same way news of his 'death' had. Her first glimpse of him had frightened her, though. He'd been making acerbic comments and generally trying to do what he himself would have called "give good face", but to her, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the way Gibbs had looked outside of MTAC. She hadn't needed to hear any part of the private debrief with the Director to know that his cover with Jeanne had been blown and he had lost her. Gibbs had been beside himself with fury at what the Director had put Tony through, but underneath that fury she had seen the almost fierce joy at knowing Tony was alive, if not unscathed.

But as the weeks had passed into months, her worry for Tony had become more and more acute. To her, he had visibly faded, cutting himself off emotionally from pretty much everyone. And in the weeks since he had fished Gibbs out of the water, his health had been part of that fading. To her eyes he was now gaunt, pale and almost ghostlike, a shadow of the man she had first met. Though he remained, as ever, warm and friendly, a definite superficiality had crept into his interactions with her, as if he was simply too tired and too down to spare the emotional energy for a more genuine , and thus for him, more taxing interaction. He had become so closed off that earlier in the week she had sought out the only other member of Gibbs' team she felt she could talk to, Tim McGee. Tuesday she had cornered McGee outside of Interrogation and dragged him into the observation room.

She had said, without preamble, "Tim, do you guys have any clue at all that Tony is not okay?"

McGee slowly met her eyes and she'd seen misery and helplessness in his face. "Yeah," he'd said softly, "Yeah we know he's not okay." He'd turned away, clearly upset, fumbling for words. "You know, this guy, ...he shows up for work and... he looks like Tony, sounds like him, mostly acts like him; he does Tony's job and does it well, but underneath it all he's just..."

"Empty," Cynthia finished for him.

"Yeah," McGee had whispered sadly. "It's not like we haven't tried, Cynthia. But... when I started to really think about it, to try to find some way to...to reach him, I realised he knows everything about me, knows my sister, knows the names of all my family, hell he even knows my sister's birthday and favorite pizza, but I know next to nothing about him. I know he's an only child, that his father is a very wealthy business man, that his mother's dead, that he's estranged from his family, and he doesn't go anywhere on most holidays. I know how he takes his coffee and that he prefers tea, but I don't know what kind of tea. I know he likes breakfast burritos and what his favorite pizza is. I know that half the girls he has supposedly dated don't exist and that..." he had trailed off for a moment then swallowed hard and finished, "I know he cared more for Jeanne Benoit than any other woman I've ever seen him with."

His face had clouded with pain as he looked at her and continued "I know he was with the Baltimore and Philadelphia police before he came here and that he went to Ohio State. I know he really likes vintage cars and that he loves movies and TV, and that he has very expensive tastes. And that is it. I don't know anything else personal about him. I don't know anything about his family; I don't know when or how his mom died, I don't know if he has any aunts or uncles or living grandparents, or why he seems to be estranged from what family he has. I don't know if he goes to church or if he even has any religious beliefs, I don't know if pizza really is his favorite food, I don't know if he has any other hobbies or interests aside from movies and video games, I don't know if he has any tattoos, I don't know what size clothes he wears, I could go on forever. I don't even know exactly when his birthday is though he's never forgotten mine. I've worked with him for over four years. He knows all those things about _me." _He had paused and shaken his head, a bitter frown on his face, and she had seen that he was full of self recrimination. "I can't tell you how I felt when I realised that."

Cynthia had sighed deeply and said "Yeah, I know what you mean. I know what tea he likes, I know he's Catholic but hasn't been to church in years, but other than that I can't really say I know much more about him than you do. I like him. We've been friends since I started working here; I would have said good friends, fairly close, but I noticed real quickly that he shuts you down if you ask him anything about himself. That's just what he does. He learns everything about you and uses it to disarm you and deflect you from asking him anything personal. I've always felt it was a real gift, the few times he's trusted me enough to talk to me about personal things. I _do _know he'd do anything in the world for people he considers friends, but it seems to me like he doesn't expect people to reciprocate. And I know this, Tim. He's in trouble. He's _not _okay. And I know if we can't help him , and soon, we could lose him."

McGee had paled. "What do you mean, lose him?"

"Tim, six weeks ago, without waiting for backup, he faced down two armed suspects and dove into a freezing harbor to rescue Agent Gibbs and a civilian, and did CPR on both of them for several minutes. He could have been shot, he could have drowned, he could have gotten pneumonia, he could have died at any number of points during that incident.."

McGee had interrupted her "He didn't have any choice about that. He knew they were in the water and the only way to get to them was through the suspects. He didn't have time to wait for back-up."

Cynthia had looked hard at McGee and said forcefully "You don't get it. Before – before Jeanne - he would have taken an agent from another team with him when he left the office if you and Ziva weren't available." She had reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Tim, what happened between Tony and Agent Gibbs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tim, the first year I was here I would have said," she had paused briefly, then continued, "Well, I would have said Tony and Agent Gibbs were very, very close. I mean, they used to finish each others' sentences. It was almost scary how much they seemed in tune with each other. But after Agent Gibbs got back from Mexico, something changed. It wasn't the same between them. I know it hurt both of them. I was seeing a lot of Tony, because of the undercover ops, and I could see that it just tore him up inside. He tried really hard to hide it. At first I thought it was because he couldn't tell Agent Gibbs about the undercover work. I thought he felt conflicted because the Director basically ordered him to lie to his own Team Leader, but I realised pretty quickly that that wasn't it, at least not all of it. Before all of this I would have said that if anyone could reach him it would have been Agent Gibbs. But now, I don't know. It frightens me to know that he needs someone to help pull him back from the edge and there's no one who can get close enough to do it. What happened between them?"

McGee had sat down heavily in one of the chairs and stared blankly ahead for a few moments. Finally he'd said softly, "I really don't know. But you're right, things changed between the two of them. I think part of it was that Tony was Team Lead for almost three months. I think he realised he could do it without Gibbs. And I don't think...I know it sounds strange, but I don't think he was entirely comfortable knowing that. I know he was glad to see Gibbs come back, but the way Gibbs just kinda shoved him back to his desk and demoted him, it bothered him. I thought myself it was poorly handled, but that's Gibbs, you know, second 'B' for bastard..."

Cynthia had interrupted him, suddenly furious on behalf of her friend. "Bothered him!? Poorly handled!? Christ, Tim it gutted him! Tony was running NCIS's number one Major Case Team _and _juggling multiple undercover operations for the Director. He did a great job. I know he didn't really mind his 'demotion' back to Senior Field Agent, because he told me himself he was _certain _Gibbs would be back eventually. But I'll bet Agent Gibbs didn't even thank Tony for keeping his seat warm, did he? I think all Tony really wanted, was to know that he'd done a good job. But I know for a fact that Agent Gibbs didn't say a damn thing about the job Tony did. Not to Tony anyway. And did you know that Gibbs wasn't one hundred percent when he came back? Do you and Ziva have any idea the lengths Tony went to, to protect him?"

McGee had swiveled his chair around and stared at her. "What are you talking about? Why should Tony have to protect Gibbs? What from?"

Cynthia had returned the stare for a long moment then sighed and turned away, suddenly sure that Tony would have gone to great lengths to protect the rest of his team from fully understanding exactly how impaired Gibbs had been. She had realised suddenly that she might have gone too far, said a little too much.

"Forget it, Tim," she had said shortly. "The point is that Tony...needs something. I'm his friend and I can feel him slipping away from us emotionally. I can see him fading physically. I'm afraid he's going to make a mistake and get himself killed. Or worse, someone else, and I know that would...destroy him." She had paused for a moment, contemplating such a nightmare. She'd felt sure that if Tony got someone, friend or stranger, killed because he messed up, he wouldn't survive it. She had continued bitterly, "It would kill whatever was left of him inside. He doesn't just need our help, Tim, he goddamn well _deserves_ it. I don't want to lose him because nobody bothered to try."

Now, with Tony standing in front of her and these memories running through her mind, she could still feel Tim McGee' s eyes on her as he had said in anguish, "I don't want to see something like that either, Cynthia. But, I just don't know what it is he needs. I know he doesn't need me hanging on him, trying to get him to open up, trying to be the kind of friend we've never been to each other. I'd like to think he knows already that I'd give him almost anything he asked for, do just about anything he wanted or needed me to do. He's never been a real sharing kind of guy, when it comes to his feelings, at least not with me. I think he's a lot like Gibbs in that regard. If he's gonna share his feelings it would be with Gibbs, or maybe Abby. I'll talk Abby, and with Ziva and Ducky. It's not like we're just standing around waiting for him to fall. But, he's got to meet us at least part way."

"Do you think that Agent Gibbs has _any _idea how bad things are with Tony?" she had asked, still reaching for some way to help her friend.

"Oh, trust me," McGee had said, shivering slightly. "He knows."

"Cynthia? You okay?" The warm concern in Tony's voice brought her suddenly back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just kind of zoned out for moment there," trying not to let her worry show on her face as she eyed him critically. She was dismayed by what she saw. At two inches over six feet, Tony normally weighed between 175 and 180 pounds. Now, he looked like he was below 160, possibly much lower. His cheeks were hollow and she realised suddenly that the bones on the backs of his hands were clearly visible. Though he was neatly groomed and well turned out in one of his designer suits, the normally well fitting suit hung off of him, and nothing could really hide his exhaustion, clearly visible in his face and posture and dominating his eyes. His pallor was also alarming and she realised that he looked worse now than he had when she had first met him, when he had been just recovering from his bout of pneumonic plague. It struck her as almost cruelly ironic that he was obviously concerned for her when he looked himself like he might collapse on her floor at any moment. She searched for a moment for some way to show her concern without embarrassing him.

"You're looking a little weary yourself there," she said, trying hard to keep actual fear out of her voice. "Can I interest you in a cup of Yorkshire Gold? Just got it in from the beverage service along with the little cups of real half-and-half."

Tony smiled at her, a real smile, warm and filled with gratitude and perhaps just a shade of relief. "God. I'd really love that Cyn. Thanks for getting it in. You're a lifesaver, I swear. You might want to let Ducky know you've got a stash up here too; he loves the stuff."

Tony's gratitude at what she considered such a simple gesture of friendship nearly broke her attempts to keep a hold on her feelings, to keep it professional, like he clearly wanted to. She nodded at him by way of reply as she got up and moved to the beverage station, getting down his mug and the box of tea. It was several moments before she could trust herself to speak, and then she was glad that the acts of opening the box and putting a bag of tea in the mug and filling it from the boiling water tap, kept her back to him. "Will you be wanting to see the Director then?"

"Yeah. I only need a couple of minutes, but I need a couple of private minutes." It was spoken evenly, almost lightly, but his eyes were grave and she thought she saw a flash of suppressed pain as she turned and handed him the mug and the cream packets.

"Okay," she said, letting her worry show a little in her eyes, along with the unasked questions. "I think she was about to call you and Agent Gibbs up here anyway. Shouldn't be any problem."

"She was going to be calling us up here?" His lifted eyebrows clearly asked _Why?_

Nodding, she said "Yes. Some case." She shrugged, spreading her hands as she continued, " I really don't have any of the details."

He nodded his understanding. "Okay. If you'll ring me on through. But listen, Cyn, Gibbs is probably going to be right up here behind me, and I really need a couple of private minutes." Her heart sank as he said it.

Instead of sitting back down she faced him directly and let him see her sadness as she asked "Are we losing you, Tony?"

She had hoped for an outright denial, but he only tilted his head to one side and said gently, "Not if I can help it. But I just can't make any...promises right now." He studied her face for a moment before adding, equally gently, "I'm sorry."

She looked away for a moment, then met his eyes again and said warmly, "We'd miss you, Tony. I'd miss you." His mouth opened but no sound came out and she realised he was almost shocked to hear that sentiment put so simply and so directly. For the second time in as many minutes she had to fight to keep a professional hold on her emotions.

After a moment Tony seemed to regain his self possession and he smiled softly as he said, "Thank you. I...I appreciate that, more than you know. I'd miss you too." He paused for just a moment then said, "I really need to get in there, Cyn. Before Gibbs storms in like the second coming," he added ruefully. She grinned back at him and reached for the intercom handset.

"Madam Director? Agent DiNozzo is requesting a brief private meeting. He says just a few minutes. No m'am, he's not. Okay. Yes m'am. I will." She hung up the handset and said with amusement, "She wanted to know if Agent Gibbs was out here with you. Go on in. I'll delay him as long as I can." She too had no doubt that Gibbs would be right behind his Senior Field Agent.

Tony, who had been engaged in creaming and sugaring his tea, nodded and to her surprise suddenly slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a brief hug and planted a quick, chaste kiss on her cheek. Letting her go, he moved quickly to the door to the director's office. But there, he paused and turned back to her, obviously trying to frame something he wanted to say.

After some internal struggle, he finally spoke. "Cynthia, if I never said it, I, well, ...I've enjoyed our friendship. It's been important to me. Thank you." He turned and went on into the Director's office without waiting to see her reaction or for a reply. Which was fortunate, because she was too shocked and distressed to respond immediately.

A sense of grief overtook her as she realised that in his own oblique way, Tony had just said goodbye.


End file.
